


Slum Dog

by EAB



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon, Classism, M/M, Supremes/Slums, fated mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:16:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAB/pseuds/EAB
Summary: As an Omega, Justin’s life was predetermined. He would finish high school and then be quickly married off to the highest bidder. Of course, these days they called it “approved marriages”, but the implication was the same. A life void of excitement, passion or happiness.





	Slum Dog

Sex…in the end, that’s what it’s all about. It’s what keeps the pulse of an Alpha thrumming, and what causes an Omega to writhe and whimper during a heat. It’s innate in a world of Alpha and Omega. As easy, natural, and necessary as breathing.

Of course, Justin isn’t aware of how true this sentiment is the first time he goes out cruising the slums of Pittsburg on Liberty Avenue.

It’s a fall night the first time they meet. The wind is mild, but still brisk enough that Justin layers his tee-shirt with a pull over, and his pull over with a windbreaker jacket. The bar’s neon lights blink red, blue, yellow, orange. He catches glimpses of passerby’s chattering and laughing as they skip down the battered cement. It’s a different kind of comradery. One that Justin knows he’s never seen before, and yet, it appeals to him all the same. The glowing allure of the slums. The cityside his mother purses her lips and calls “improper”.

“Hey cutie,” a Beta with a tight fitted halter calls out to him. He stands as if to put himself on display, puffing his lean chest, and canting his hips. Justin determinedly ignores him until he realizes he has no idea where he’s going. His goal is to immerse himself in the slums for one night. But now that he’s here he realizes he doesn’t have a plan.

“Umm…” Justin tries not to fidget, but he balls his fist, nonetheless. “Scuse’ me, uh. Could you tell me like...” He cringes at how proper he sounds even when tries to imitate their grungy lilt. “Where’s a good place to go?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for…” he grunts. “You want twinkies go to Boytoy.”

_They’ve got a dessert shop around here?_

“You want leather, go to Meathook. If you want snotty, conceited assholes who think they’re better than everybody else, try Pistol. That’s where the Premes hang out.”

“The Premes?” Justin blinks and stutters, “y-you mean Premes actually hang out in the slums?”

The Beta folds his arms and eyes him carefully. “Where you from, kid?”

“Me?” Justin pales. A feat given his fair complexion. “Oh, I. I’m—”

_Shit._

Justin ducks his head and bites his lower lip with his Omegan fangs. “I’m from…”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

There was a boy at his school. An Alpha on a scholarship from the slums.

Where was he from?

Riverland?

Beltzhoover?

“Alleghany!” Justin blurts looking up at him. “Alleghany,” he repeats, nodding to assert himself.

“Alleghany…” The Beta nods slow. “Is that right?”

Justin winces before he nods, clasping his hands together in front of him. He swallows as the Betas eyes roam, hover to make a show of his dominance over the clearly younger, Omegan male.

_He knows…_

Justin tries to appeal himself, lowering his head in a practiced obedience. He folds his shoulders in to make himself smaller and releases a subtle twinge of pheromones. If finishing school had taught him anything, it’s that Beta’s were the Napoleon’s of the world. Not as deplorable as Omegas, but nowhere near as lauded as the fine specimen of Alpha. A little fawning and cooing from an Omega goes a long way when one wants to endear themselves.

_Or to manipulate a dumb ass Beta._

As predicted, he takes Justin’s submission as an ego stroke. His grin widens as he huffs out a chuckle, and he gives Justin a modicum of space to feel more secure.

“Ain’t never been to Alleghany,” he eventually confesses. “Gotta lot of farmland out there, right?”

“Yup.” Justin nods, grateful for the segway. “A ton. My father is dairy farmer out there.”

“That right?” the Beta pokes out his lip and nods. “I can see that. You’ve got that farmer boy, look. Not from around here.” He sniffs the air for Justin’s scent. “Too clean.”

“I guess it’s pretty obvious.” Justin giggles and rubs the back of his head.

“It’s kind of late for you to be out though… especially on a school night,” the Beta mummers, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Why don’t you come home with me, hmm?”

“Oh. Uh.”

_Quick, Justin!_

“N-no thanks. I’m meeting someone. My friend. Later.” He clears his throat as if it will bolster his lie. By the skepticism on the Beta’s face it doesn’t.

“I’m meeting my friend later,” he repeats.

“Heh. Yeah, right.” The Beta shakes his head before he scoffs and says, “go on home to your Mama, farm boy.”

Justin frowns at the supposed insult, but he shuffles away nonetheless.

_Too clean?_

He peers down at his woolen plaid shirt and jeans tattered at the hem and knee. They were the dingiest thing he had in his closet, but in the slums, he was somehow ‘too clean’.

He keeps a slow pace as he heads down the sidewalk. It’s already 1am. If he stays out any later, it’s going to be hell sneaking back in tonight. If it’s too late he’ll have to stay in a hotel, but then, did they even have hotels in the slums?

_Shit._

Justin leans against the lamp pole, peering up to the rust colored street light. Beyond the glaring neon, and the sounds of laughter and music, there’s a low hum of energy from every crevice of the slums. Dingy gray sidewalks, irate horns honking, hoards and hoards of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas all clustered in an exultant throng. It was a stark contrast to the world of Supremes. The world where hierarchy was only surpassed by God, and money, and political power.

As an Omega, Justin’s life was predetermined. He would finish high school, and then be quickly married off to the highest bidder. Of course, these days they called it “approved marriages”, but the implication was the same. A life void of excitement, passion or happiness.

Justin sighs, pushing himself off the pole and prepares to hail a taxi. Tonight isn’t the night to have his slum cherry popped. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll have better luck.

But just as he’s about to cross the street, he sees him.

An Alpha—no, a God.

_Shit._

Justin’s palms sweat as the Alpha nears him. He looks like he’s stepped off the set of a classic movie.

“How’s it going?” A devilish smirk curls his lips, and says ‘sin with me’. His voice is as playful as his smile, and Justin struggles not to mewl when he answers, “fine.”

“Had a busy night?”

“Just checking out the bars.” Justin dares to peer up at him for the first time, drinking in his model like features. The man before him is one hell of Alpha. Pink thin lips, a chiseled jaw, and messy dark hair drenched across his sweaty forehead. Justin traces where the tendrils of it meet the collar of his V-neck shirt, granting him a peek of firm muscle beneath. Flawless. The living embodiment of perfection.

“I went to Boytoy,” Justin says, hoping to garner some clout. “And Meathook,” he adds.

“The Meathook, really?” The Alpha’s dark brow rises. “So, you’re into leather?”

_Leather?_

“Sure.” Justin nods and gives the Alpha an unintended goofy smile. The grin the Alpha gives him back is predatory, but Justin, for some reason, isn’t frightened. There’s a warm gentle caress in his mind, pulling him forward and flooding his system with a doping tranquilizer.

Just a subtle whiff and he can smell the raw musk wafting off the Alpha; steamed Italian leather, Irish spring, and a twinge of molt liquor.

_Oh, Jesus. Take me._

“Where you headed?” the Alpha asks and Justin grins at him once more. He leans his head back, this time deliberately flashing his bare neck and Omegan fangs. If there’s any question of his gender, Justin has just given him the answer.

“No place special.”

The Alpha leans in and Justin takes a deep, but silent breath. His lips tremble as the Alphan scent melts over his tongue.

“I can change that,” the Alpha says, and Justin is nodding before he’s thought the repercussions of the statement through.

The Alpha grips his hand, and Justin squeezes as he’s dragged along toward his jeep.

_What am I doing…_

_He’s an Slum Alpha. _  
  
_I’m an Supreme Omega._

And yet, even as Justin enters the passenger’s side, and pulls the seatbelt over his chest his heart won’t stop pounding in his ears.

“Hey, asshole!” the sound of someone’s voice jolts Justin out of his momentary haze. It’s an Omega. Short and much older than Justin’s ever seen unmated.

“What about us?!” He screams, cheeks puffed, and face red from both alcohol and rage.

“You can ride with, Ted!”

They skurr off, taking the corner like thieves in the night. The cool air rushes against his face, and once more, Justin begins to panic.

_What. Am. I. Doing._

The scent of raw sex wafts from the Alphas pores. There’s no way this man intends to just gentle him, but Justin has already decided he wants to lose his virginity on his own terms. Not to a Supreme Alpha his mother and father have chosen for him. But a man he wants. A man he desires physically… mentally…emotionally. Someone who drowns him in their potent scent. Someone who makes his cock twitch till it hurts, his pussy pulse till he gushes, and his blond hair stand on end. Possesses him in their jaws, and owns him, if not legally, then in every other way imaginable.

The Alpha turns to face him, and their eyes lock for the briefest of seconds. But even in those nanoseconds Justin can feel it. That stinging spark in his chest, tingling and then erupting like an explosion through his body.

_Shit._

“What’s your name?” Justin’s voice trembles and he hopes the Alpha assumes he’s shivering from the cold air whipping his neck and not the hunger in his eyes.

“It’s Brian Kinney,” the Alpha shouts over the whistling wind. “You?”

Justin pauses. For a moment he considers giving an alias. He’s a Supreme Omega in Slum territory. Even as an adult it would get him a slap on the wrist by the cops, but as a minor…

Yet still, he can’t bring himself to lie to this man, and before he can stop himself, he murmurs, “Justin.” He takes a deep breath and says, “Justin Taylor.”

“It’s a pleasure, Justin.” Brian flaunts him a cheeky grin, and Justin laughs nervously, reaching out to take his hand. The catalyst smokes, and then simmers, bursting like a fire in his gut. And as their fingers connect, they burn. Justin’s body knows it before he even knows it…

_Mine._

A smirk plays on his lips as the wind scatters through his hair. Goosebumps break out over his skin, and he closes his eyes, resigning himself to his fate.

Brian Kinney. A slum dog Alpha in his prime. And Justin Taylor’s fated mate.

**Author's Note:**

> Was procrastinating. Also in desperate need of some Queer As Folk ABO. So I wrote a thing to avoid my real writing obligations. I hope you enjoy!


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